


Behind The Bus

by TheRealhero



Series: From Stage To End [1]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, The Brobecks, The Cab
Genre: Accidents, Affairs, Affection, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bi-Curiosity, Brotherly Affection, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Music, Musicians, Oral Sex, Other, Phone Sex, Public Display of Affection, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Self-Denial, Self-Destruction, Self-Discovery, Sex Addiction, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Touring, Unresolved Sexual Tension, por
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealhero/pseuds/TheRealhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the moment the band split, Brendon has been falling apart on himself and he doesn't know why. Tension drives him away from Sarah and into the shadows of a reality he doesn't know if he's ready for. What happens on stage starts to become more for him than it should...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Realization

It had been a little scary, thinking about touring or even writing without their friends. Brendon thought that splitting up his band had been the worst thing to ever happen. He’d actually cried, asking Ryan to stay. They had all been through so much, gone so far. It felt like he was being torn in two while they all discussed the changes. Spencer had sat right next to him, eyes rimmed with red and mouth turned down. Ryan hadn't been happy for a while, that was obvious. But Brendon thought that with some work, everything could go okay in the end. He’d been wrong. And when things settled, it was just him and Spencer to decide what the next step was.

Finding a way to keep moving was the first step and he hadn't taken that step well. Sarah pushed and prodded at him daily to get up, to do something; Anything. But he just couldn't bring it out of himself. The band didn't make up his only friends though. Many people worried about him and came after once enough time had passed. Daily phone calls came from Pete, not only to help him but to get on him about their record deals. With Ryan and Jon gone, they needed to figure out what the next step was. Did they just start new from the ground up? That seemed like a terrible idea. Spin offs never ended well. Forcing his depression aside, Brendon went to Spencer and they figured it all out.

It took a while but over time, they started writing again, playing soon after. Nothing big but it was happening. The more it did, the better it felt. Soon enough, Urie was back to the man all those fans had grown to love. He bounced, he sang, and was all over the place. And as he grew back into life, so did Spencer. His smile came back and that thrilled the wayward singer. He wanted them to be like they used to. To have fun like they used to. And that was happening again. The split became a nightmare that they had finally woken up from. Something they could remember but not dwell on any longer. It was all falling into place again.

But finding new people to perform with had weighed on both their minds. There were lots of people who they could play with but being in a band and making it work was hard. You had to click with your band mates or the group would tear itself apart. People came and went. Each time someone seemed right, they would get called away or decide against it. Just when they thought they wouldn't be able to replace their friends…they did. Dallon Weekes came first. Former singer for The Brobecks. He was older but very far from being an old man. Dallon could sing, he could play several different instruments. In short terms, he was the taller version of Brendon. And that was perfect.

While Dallon took over as their bassist, Panic was left with no guitar. Brendon could play but they needed a lead. So the hunt went on. They recorded, they shot videos but still, they had no one. Tour was looming after the release of ‘Mona Lisa’ and Brendon was starting to panic. Then, like an angel sent straight from musical heaven, they were given their fourth. Ian Crawford was a longtime friend to all of them. His time with The Cab had made them all cross paths here and there. The second Crawford said he was interested, Brendon jumped on it. He wanted Ian like people in hell wanted Ice water. And of course, Urie gets what Urie wants.

With the band together, Panic announced their touring musicians. There was hate from the fans, many of them still stung from Ryan and Jon’s parting. But the guys hung in because they knew the fans would grow to love Dallon and Ian as much as they did. The first few shows of the tour were tight. Brendon was wound up like a spring and each show, he popped. His voice was strong, his body limber. Every show was a dance party that he loved to think he was the star of. Dallon and Ian were no rookies. Each of them jumped into the game like the pros he knew them to be. And something happened with their new band mates that struck the fans and won them over in a heartbeat.

Brendon Urie was an affectionate guy. He cuddled, he hugged, he hung on everyone. It was a well-known fact that all his friends and fans knew. But on stage, something took over inside him that he could barely control. Ryan had tried and mostly succeeded in keeping him under control. Brendon didn't know why but when the heat of the lights was on his skin, the music buzzing each pore…he needed to be close to someone, anyone. That usually meant Ryan. But the guitarist had shut him down at nearly every venue, only giving in on occasion. At the time, Brendon thought it was for the best. He was very wrong.

Dallon had no problem with pushing back, and boy did he do it. On stage they all but fucked most nights. Dallon would lick, grind, kiss, and rub on him each and every chance he got. Brendon fell into it like it was the most natural thing in the world. At first it was just for the show, just to please the fans. It did not remain that way. Slowly, he started to realize he liked it. He loved having Dallon pressed against him, touching him. The problems only began when he started getting off on it. More than once he’d been forced to grab a guitar to cover himself, creating random riffs that weren't even needed. This had earned him some strange looks from Ian. But he didn't care. Stage gay was fine. Rocking a painful erection from it was not.

Brendon learned to control himself though, and the fan came back. He tried hard not to think about his own reactions and on stage, that was easy. He’s play with his band mates, even dragging Ian into it. They’d started a skit on stage with a cigarette that drove the fans nuts. He loved that both Ian and Dallon were so comfortable with paying these games. He hoped the never realized how real it was to him…how he had to jerk off silently in the bathroom afterwards when things got too hot on stage. Most venues, he’d get drunk or high before even going out. It made things easier but also made his friends worry. Being him was complicated.

The lifestyle of rock stars was pretty obvious. And while they all denied it, it was all true. They fucked fans, they drank too much, they smoked on the bus. Yeah. Since he was a teenager and this had all started, Brendon swore he wasn't going to be like that. He didn't even lose his virginity until he was almost twenty. But that changed over time. Now he had Sarah at home, a gorgeous girl who loved him deeply. When Ryan left, Brendon started to question his entire life. And he wasn't even sure why. But he shoved it all aside and pretended he was fine. But when he started getting turned on by his band mates, things changed. Urie would grab the first fuckable thing he could find and do what he needed to. Yes he knew he was cheating on Sarah, yes he knew it was fucked up. But he couldn't help it. But more than once, he’d been unable to…finish. And that looked really bad to the fans he was sleeping with. So he faked it, hiding an empty condom from them at the end of the night.

Something was terribly wrong. And Brendon knew that. He couldn't even cum when he was on the phone with Sarah anymore. He had to fake it with her as well. What was happening to him? He was fairly sure he figured it out the night he thought he was alone in the hotel parking lot. The air was thick and sticky from the summer heat and he’d gone out to smoke. The crickets were chirping and the moon was low in the sky. He remembered staring straight up and leaning against the bus, smoke slipping from his nose as he tried to relax. Then the sound came. It was a whining sound, one that startled him from his peaceful musing. Pressing the cigarette to his plump lips, Brendon walked slowly and silently around the bus. As he round the corner, he found the source of the noise.

Ian was there, shadowed by tall trees. He had a girl pressed up against the bus, her legs wrapped tight around his waist. Brendon could see the entire thing as he stared with wide eyes. Ian’s jeans were in a tangle around his knees, pulled taunt by his legs being spread. The had her blonde head thrown back, mouth open as he slammed into her repeatedly. The second he realized what he was seeing, Brendon jumped back, pressing his back to the front of the bus. Even though they were now out of sight, he could still hear them. The girl was whining, high and quick. But that wasn't the one he was focusing on. It was Ian that his ears held onto. He could hear him groaning, his breath puffing out the sound, making it seemed strained and heavy. It was different from the sound that came from his bunk when he thought they were all sleeping. This sound was more real, more feral.

Brendon closed his eyes, face flushing as he hardened in his pants. He should leave, he should just walk back to his room and pretend this wasn't happening. But his legs stayed locked in place. His back didn't budge from the cool front grill of the large vehicle. Swallowing hard, he reached down, pressing his hand against the front of his loose fitting shorts. The jersey material was smooth against his palm but he didn't give a damn. It was the pressure he wanted. This was wrong on so many levels but for almost a month, he’d been unable to get off. The thought of cumming was enough to drive his hand down into his shorts. He wrapped his fingers around himself, almost surprised at how hard he really was.

His hand started moving, flicking shallow strokes over his cock. The singer had to bite down hard on his own tongue to keep from making any sound. He wasn't sure if they would hear him but it wasn't worth the risk. He could hear the couple, their sounds coming just a little louder, more urgent. He realized that they were getting close to their climaxes. Brendon parted his lips, gasping as he squeezed his own base, running his fingers long up to the head and squeezing again. It was so intense that he felt blood pounding hard against his ears. He parted his lips, letting a low breath escape. It wasn't until he heard Ian call out that he came. His hips jerked forward over and over, releasing until he was sure the entire front of his shorts were soaked with it.

He instantly covered his mouth to hide his harsh breathing. The pair were talking now, saying words he couldn't make out. Brendon pulled a shaking hand from his pants, wiping it quickly on the side of his leg. Not waiting around any longer, the singer darted away from the bus. He ran as quietly as he could up to his hotel room. Shutting the door, he leaned heavily against it. His heart was pounding wildly against his chest, making him feel like the world could hear it. Spencer was asleep, his arm dangling lifelessly off his bed. Brendon watched him for a few seconds to make sure he wasn't going to wake up. He really didn't want to be caught flushed and panting, the front of his pants soaked in his own shame.

When he was sure Spencer wouldn't wake up, he pushed away from the door and rushed to his bag. Grabbing a pair of pajama bottoms, he went into the bathroom to clean himself up. The entire time he was in there, he spoke in quiet whispers to himself. Later he might find that insane but for the moment, Brendon just needed some outlet. “You just jerked off in a parking lot…” he muttered. “…listening to your band mate, your fucking friend….” He continued. Folding up his shorts, he took in a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror. “Get your shit together, Urie.” He said as he stared at his own reflection. Putting on a casual face in case the drummer was awake, Brendon walked out. But all he found was silent darkness. That night, he fell asleep with images of a guitarist behind his eyes.

The next morning, Brendon woke up to the sounds of people talking around him. He’d been having a good dream but now it was slipping away from him. Opening his chocolate hues, he looked around. Spencer was sitting on his bed, still wearing his night clothes. He had a coffee in his hand, a smile on his face. Who is he smiling at…? Brendon wondered. Leaning up a little, he looked towards the other end of the room. And instantly, his eyes went wide. Ian was sitting there, wearing nothing but a pair of ‘Space Jam’ pajama bottoms. Before panicking, Brendon had time to wonder where the hell he’d gotten those. As soon as the thought passed, he dropped his head back down and covered it with the pillow.

“Brendon! Dude Zack brought us coffee.” Ian said, his voice muffled a little from the pillow protection Brendon had covered himself in. Steeling himself for how stupid he was sure he was going to act, the singer removed the pillow and pushed himself into a sitting position. He kept his eyes shut and stretched his arms over his head. His baggy top hung loose on him, hiding the muscles that arched under his taunt skin. “Yeah?” he asked and finally looked over. His friends were casual, completely cool. They clearly knew nothing and didn't catch onto his tension. So he forced himself to relax. Spencer handed him a coffee and having something to do with his hands made the whole ordeal much easier to handle.

“Where’s Dallon?” Brendon asked after having burned his tongue on the drink. Ian rolled his light eyes and batted a hand through the air. “The old man refuses to wake up.” He said in his young voice. Crawford was the youngest out of them and he was picked on for it a lot. They called him the baby, pointing out every ‘teen-like’ thing he did. He was talented and proud but he acted like a kid some times. They all did but it was more fun to make fun of Ian. Maybe it was the way his brown curls fell around his cherubic face. All his features were round and soft. Even his lips as they curved around his perfect white teeth. He was short, adding to the ‘baby’ name they’d given him. But even as small as he was, there was one thing on Ian that was far from small. His mouth. The guitarist had a wide mouth, stretching wider when he sang than even Brendon’s did. Brendon wanted to be able to say he’d never thought about it…but it would be a bold faced lie.

The rest of the day went pretty normal. Brendon was able to forget about the night before. He fell back into his normal routine. They walked around, visiting shops and little corner stores. Zack stayed on their backs, keeping them from getting into trouble as always. Dallon chose to sleep as much as he could before the show. He had been staying up late to talk to his wife due to the time difference that currently separated them. So that left the other three to run around. Spencer and Brendon got along perfect. They always had. No arguments and lots of jokes. Ian was the same way. The three of them did nothing but laugh. He wasn't saying Dallon was bad because he was far from it. Anyone who looked in would think Brendon and Dallon were joined at the hip. Most of that was for the fans. The two got along great, like brothers almost, but when they teased and hung on each other, it was for cameras, not because they actually felt the need to be so clingy all the time.

Being able to walk around and enjoy the day had helped Brendon’s mood. But as it got closer to show time, his worries about the previous night came back in full force. The area behind the stage was hotter than the air outside. Brendon was sweating through his white button up already and they weren't even performing yet. Walking over to his band mates, the singer leaned against Spencer, not wanting to hold up his own weight even though being close to the drummer made him hotter. Ian was slumped on a speaker, a joint rolled between his lips. Smoke slipped out slowly, clouding around his curly head. Brendon could smell the marijuana, stinging at his nostrils and making him want it.

Holding out his hand, he made a face at the guitarist. Seconds later, the joint was passed to him. Pressing it between his dry lips, he inhaled, sucking the smoke down deep into his lungs. As he handed it back, he coughed, pressing a hand to his mouth out of courtesy. He caught Ian laughing at him from the corner of his eye. There wasn't time to pick a fight though because Zack was suddenly there, trying to usher them to get ready. Stealing the joint back, Brendon rode it had, letting the paper burn away until it was almost a nub of nothing. He earned himself a dirty look from Ian but it went ignored as they prepared to go out on stage. A smirk covered the singer’s face and he shook himself out. Time to pretend they were the happiest people in the world.


	2. Looking Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still figuring himself out, Brendon looks back on his recent past...and how Dallon may have played a part in where he stands now.

The room behind the stage that they were given was loud, a mess, and filled with bodies that made the temperature so high it was almost unbearable. But there wasn’t a single complaint to be found among those who occupied the space. In fact, there was nothing but laughter and smiles’ covering it’s every inch. This was almost the best part of each show. The high that could be ridden out for hours, even without the added effects of drugs or drinks. It was like a natural buzz, one you just couldn’t get from anything else in the world.

  


Brendon Urie loved it. He dropped down onto the long, beat up leather sofa that was shoved into the small space. His sweat soaked skin slid on it, making him end up in a lounging position rather than the sitting one he’d started in. But he didn’t give a damn. It was comfortable and his body was so strung out that anything was better than standing right then. Spencer sat himself down at the other end, his long brown hair a mess around his face. There was a million dollar smile on though; one that always sent Brendon back into those stupid days of them being teenagers. No one smiled like Spencer smith.

Ian was at the other end of the room, using a towel to keep his wild mane of hair away from his red flushed face. He was shirtless, just like the singer. His back was curved back, arched in a way that, as it had a lot lately, had Brendon eyeing him. Of course this little moment of his was short lived as their bassist strolled in. Dallon Weekes was 6’3 and built to match the height. On stage, Brendon teased and played games with him that made the fans go crazy. Those games were fun for everyone involved, even if they got Brendon hard half way through the show. But Dallon never made the connection and this presented problems for Brendon on a very regular basis.

The bassist walked over. Ignoring Spencer, he crawled onto the sofa, laying himself heavy over top of Brendon. His stomach covered the singer’s waist, forcing an agitated yelp to pass his wide lips. “Dallon jesus…” he muttered but it was more good natured than annoyed. The older man pressed his face into Brendon’s neck and muttered. “So tired B…” was all that was understandable from the mess of words he’d spilled out. Unable to move much, Brendon heard Spencer grumble before he escaped their sweaty couch pile. “So gay.” He’d said but a laugh followed soon after, assuring Brendon that his best friend was only picking on them. These days, he worried about himself.

This was how their evenings usually went after a show. A few moments of down time, collecting themselves in private. Then there were a few ways they could all go. If it was a big show or they were just particularly into it, they’d let some fans back, do a little party thing. If they were so worn out, as was usual to the end of tour, they’d just go back to the bus or hotel and sleep for as long as they could. But it was always different. Ian and Spencer sometimes went out, escaping Zack for a few hours to find star struck girls to hang out with. Dallon would drink, he’d party, but he always ended up back first. He was one of those super perfect husbands that all the women hoped for as little girls. A prince charming.

Brendon admired Dallon for his loyalty to Breezy. When they’d first started their on stage flirting games, Breezy had been more on board than anyone else. She loved it. And whatever that woman wanted, Dallon gave her. At first, it had been hard to think about for Brendon. He’d thought that Dallon only did those things to please his wife, but it slowly became obvious that he was doing it because he trusted Brendon and they were close enough for it to work with their friendship. He loved Dallon like a true friend and even if they practically fucked each other on stage, it was never something that hurt them in the end, not anymore.

Of course…there was a time they never spoke about. When you live on a bus for months, going from hotel to hotel with the same people, shit happened. That was just how it worked. Brendon couldn’t even begin to explain the things he’d walked in on Ryan doing over the years. So adding new secrets with new band mates was expected. The secret he was thinking about just then was one that he’d recently been going over a lot. It was probably because of his concerns about himself. Or maybe the night he’d spent jerking off in that parking lot to Ian’s moaning was what brought it to the front of his mind again. Either way, it was intense and so heated; he hated to even imagine it with Dallon stretched out over top of him as he was.

It was just two months prior to that day. The show had been one he’d never forget, not that the internet ever would let him. He and Dallon had been at each other’s throats with the on stage sexual tension. But it had earned them so much love from their fans. Each time they were looking at each other, they’d smile, pleased with themselves. It had been a day that he’d managed to control himself so he was pretty damn happy. But there were moments when he thought he’d gone too far, pushed too hard. Dallon was different that night. Each movement, each act was almost strained. But Urie couldn’t tell if it was the lights flashing around that made him think this or if it was true. He’d found out later.

Usually they rubbed around, gotten so close they could kiss. That night, Brendon had started crossing some lines on their usual routine. He’d looked and touched. No it wasn’t the first time he’d put his hands on Dallon but it seemed different. More intense. It was the look in those blue eyes that had made him think so. Brendon, caught up in his own stage high, had pressed the palm of his hand firmly up against Dallon’s crotch. Now this on its own shouldn’t have meant anything since he did that sort of thing a lot, both to himself and the bassist. But that night, Dallon threw his head back and looked…well hot. Brendon tried to ignore it but the bassist didn’t seem to want to let him.

Dallon was on his knees, instrument pressed in behind his head. His hips were moving, circling and pressing forward in an obvious suggestive manner. Ian had slapped Brendon’s arm, pointing across the stage with a devious grin on his face. He’d turned then, following his guitarists gaze. Singing still, he tried not to laugh into the mic as he strutted his way over to the other man. Even on his knees, Dallon was damn near as tall as him. But that wasn’t the focus. Brendon leaned in to bring the mic between them. His intent was to let Dallon sing with him, as they often did. That wasn’t what happened.

Ignoring the mic, Dallon pressed an open kiss to Brendon’s lips. And caught off guard, he’d returned it. The singer tilted his head, leaning into it to hide the bulk of the gesture from prying eyes. They’d shared small kisses on stage, just a quick puckering of the lips to get all those girls going. But this one was different. Dallon closed his eyes, pressing his mouth up against Brendon like it was going to save his life. And the singer could only return it for lacking of knowing what else to do. Then it was over. Dallon jumped back up and went back to playing. Brendon continued his song.

That night though, Brendon was abandoned by Spencer and Ian, having decided he didn’t feel like drinking. The rigorous show had killed his energy and he’d wanted nothing more than to sleep it all off. Dallon was already gone, having vanished into the bunks moments after the show ended. That wasn’t unusual though. The bassist usually escaped to use the precious alone time to call his wife. He’d have to get over that early, he’d thought that night as he dragged himself onto the bus. Brendon didn’t hear Dallon’s voice or anything at all. Half curious as to where the other man was, he pressed through the door into their sleeping area. “Hey Dal…” where the only words the young male could utter before his question was almost violently answered.

Appearing as if out of nowhere, which was impressive for a man so large, Dallon pushed him. Brendon’s back had hit the door hard but not enough to hurt. But he was trapped. The older man was there, almost flush in front of him. One hand was pressed against the door, the other balled into a fist against his side. Brendon could still hear the shaking voice in his mind, even to present day. _“Brendon…I need something…”_ It was just a simple sentence but it had sent a chill along his spine. He’d stood still, giving only a nod of his head in reply. It wasn’t that he’d been scared, necessarily, but something kept him frozen there between Dallon’s form and the wood of the door behind him.

But no real explanation came, not in the form of words anyway. His band mate groaned an almost desperate sound. Thrusting his hand down into the front of his black slacks, Dallon had started jerking himself off right there in front of Brendon. The singer was shocked into silence. His brown eyes went wide, afraid to meet the gaze of the man in front of him. He stayed still, palms pressed against the door. He was flattened there, afraid to move or do something wrong. Of course he really wasn’t sure what it was Dallon wanted from him at that point. But he thought now, he’d figured it out.

The other man pushed his pants open around his hips. He was exposed, right there in front of Brendon, no shame at all. His hand worked furiously, moving so fast, Brendon felt it jerking even with Space between them. Space that was closing fast. Dallon pressed his head against Brendon’s, forehead to temple. Every moan he made was right against the singer’s ear. If he hadn’t been so confused and terrified, he probably could have gotten off on it. But at the time he was lost. He’d stood perfectly still with Dallon’s breath puffing against his cheek, his body so close that he could feel the heat rolling off of him.

The memory echoed through his mind, loud and perfectly clear. _“Aah…fuck Brendon…”_ came the bassists voice, hot and heavy against his ear. But that hadn’t been the focus of his thoughts then because something else tore at his attention. The other man called out and came. Brendon had jumped, feeling something hit his bare stomach. With flushed face, he’d looked down, seeing himself covered in Dallon’s release. There was a long pause, filled with heavy breathing. But when the orgasm came down for Dallon, panic took over.  
He’d pulled his own shirt off, using it to wipe away his shame from Brendon’s skin. Apology after apology filled the space between them. _“Bren…I’m so fucking sorry…god you must think I’m a freak or something…”_ he’d said over and again. But Brendon had assured him that it was nothing. That he knew it was all about Breezy and shit. Nothing to worry about at all. And after that night, it was never spoken of again. Of course it took a few days for Dallon to get back to his old self but he did manage it. And things went on as usual. They fucked around on stage, they flirted in interviews. All the normal stuff. But Brendon wasn’t going to forget it and now, with his life crisis on full sail, he was finding it hard not to think about.

It was then that he was forced from his memory by present day Dallon. Still, they were stretched out over the sofa together. The bassist’s weight was comfortably warm on his body and he’d thought it was all fine. But Dallon pushed himself up on one elbow, redness to his cheeks that made Brendon perk up a single brow. The older man glanced over at Spence and Ian, finding their attentions on each other. Leaning in, he spoke close to the singer’s ear, his words very hushed, clearly meant to be hidden from their band mates. “Pretty sure your dick’s trying to dig through my stomach.” He said. It was spoken like a joke, just a tease, but Brendon could tell Dallon was embarrassed. And now, so was he.

They sat up together, Dallon moving slowly. Even with the situation as ridiculous as it was, he was so much of a good friend that he moved in a way that allowed Brendon to hide his pretty obvious erection. From that point, Brendon was ready to just go back to the hotel. He leaned over some to Dallon who was now sitting against his side. “Sorry man. I’m supposed to call Sarah later…my mind wondered.” He lied. But Dallon bought it. A sly smile came across his face and he grinned at the other. “Sexy time for Bren and his lady. I got’cha.”

So that night, lying as silent as he could, Brendon did not jerk off to Ian and some random girl. He didn’t even do it in secret. He was alone it he bunks, his cellphone pressed against his ear. From the device, Sarah’s voice carried over, speaking hushed and heated words. But it was not her voice or her pressing that got him off. It was the images from his memory. The huff of his friend’s breathing against his ear. And when he called out and came, it was all he had to keep from spilling Dallon’s name instead of Sarah’s. Sticky, wet, and entirely ashamed of himself, Brendon told his girlfriend how much he loved her and hung up. He’d barely hung up before cursing and punching the roof of his personal space. What the hell was wrong with him?


	3. Saying It Out Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Brendon to realize what all these changes mean for him, he needs a friend to call him out on it. And when it happens...he realizes that it's no easy path to get started on.

Smoke coiled up into the air, making a soft white space in the black sky that hung over head. The stars were out and for once, they could be seen bright. There were no massive cities to turn them out. No cars and street lamps every few feet. The world was quiet and peaceful. It had been a chance event that the bus broke down, landing the boys in a tiny little town. The kind of town that only had one motel. And they literally checked out every room. But it was nice. No fans, no worries about being stalked. Just them and the fields that surrounded the place.  
  
Brendon stood outside, leaning against a support beam on the motel. His back was to his own door, which hung open to let some air in. It wasn’t exactly cold out and there was no air conditioning, probably in the whole town. Ian was in that room, having passed out a few hours ago. He could hear the other man’s soft breathing, the occasional snore. He liked sharing a room with Ian. The younger man didn’t make a lot of noise. Not like Spencer, he sometimes seemed to have full, unintelligible conversations with himself. Silence was a gift in their world and when he could get his hands on it, he took it and ran.  
  
Pressing the cigarette to his lips again, he sucked in the dangerous smoke, letting it comfortably fill up his lungs. He held it for a moment, thinking that he heard something. But when no more sound came, he released the smoke, rolling it out over his lips in a slow and controlled way. It drifted down, swirling until a draft caught it and sent the designs wild. He lifted a brow, sure he’d felt no wind, but it was soon explained. Ian was suddenly there with him, startling the singer. The guitarist reached over, taking the cigarette from his hand. He pressed it between dry lips, sucking it in.  
  
Brendon watched the man. All Ian’s features were softened in the dark. His long curly hair was a mess around his head, hanging heavy around his face. His pajama bottoms hung loose on his hips, revealing a trail of light colored hair that vanished down into them. He dragged his eyes back up, hands moving to tuck into the jeans he’d never taken off. There were a few moments of silence, Ian finishing off his cigarette before dropping it to the ground. Brendon stopped it out since Ian clearly wasn’t wearing any shoes with his bed clothes. Another few moments of silence followed.  
  
“Broke up with Cassie.” He said, making the singer glance over. Ian and Cassie had never exclusively dated. They were more like fuck buddies. She would come around every so often and they’d go off together for a night or two. All the guys were used to her. She was just part of their scene. To think that Ian had ended things with her was…well it was just odd. Ian messed around with a lot of girls but Cassie was the one he always ended up back with. He’d never said they were dating and he’d never sent her away. What had changed now? “What happened?”  
  
Keeping his eyes forward, Ian grinned, rubbing at the back of his head. A small chuckled escaped and Brendon waited. He didn’t want to pry, no matter how curious he was. “You don’t…” he started but Ian was shaking his head then. “I was doing stupid shit, man. She could ignore them but I guess I couldn’t. It was better for her, you know?” he said, looking over. Their eyes met and Brendon was suddenly glad it was so dark. His face had heated up pretty quick and he knew that in the light, it would have been obvious. And even though he parted his lips, he just wasn’t sure what he could say to the other.  
  
“I…I’m sorry man.” He said, because it just seemed like the only thing to say. But it was stiff. He hoped that Ian didn’t pick up on it. The guitarist looked away finally, staring towards the ground. More silence fell over them. Brendon wanted to break it though. He felt like he should. As he opened his mouth to speak, Ian beat him to it. “You ever feel like you aren’t doing the right thing? Like…..what’s right for you?” he asked. His head didn’t move. He kept staring down. An uneasy feeling gripped the singer and he cleared his throat. Recently, that was how he always felt. But of course, he doubted his feeling and Ian’s were the same. Ian was a ladies man, always having girls on his arm. Brendon was…well he was still figuring that out.  
  
The conversation went nowhere after that. They shared another smoke before going to bed. It felt wrong, like too much went unsaid but while he was lying in bed, Brendon knew that it was for the best. What could he tell Ian? That he was attracted to him? That he jerked off to him? No. Of course not. That wasn’t even remotely an option. Ian would probably wig out and call him a freak. Maybe he’d even leave the band. That wasn’t worth it. Plus it could just be a phase. He wouldn’t break them all up just to get some momentary thing off his chest. Yes that was it. It was a phase and nothing to worry about any more than he already had.  
  
Unfortunately phases took time to pass and this one was holding on for dear life. It felt like each night, he was plagued by dreams of his friends and during the day, he had to watch every move he made. If it wasn't a random hard on, it was his own blushing. Every day felt like he was back in high school. All he was missing was the book to carry over his pants. The guys would totally notice that though, he was sure. They'd pick on him and laugh. Brendon really was surprised that hadn't occurred yet. They were all together so much, someone should have noticed something. And for a long time, he imagined he was getting away with it all. He was wrong.  
  
It was just a week after they'd left the little town that Brendon found himself alone in the bus with only Zack. The larger man was sitting on his laptop on the couch, tweeting no doubt. Brendon had sat at the counter for several long minutes before he decided he'd slip away and try and get a few moments alone before the rest of the guys got back. But as he started for the bunks, he was busted. "Bren, wanna come here for a second?" The sound of Zack's voice made a nervous chill run down his spine. But the singer spun on his heel and walked over, dropping himself down next to his manager.  
  
"B, you've been acting really off lately. Something going on?" he asked, setting his computer aside. Once again, Brendon got the feeling of being a teenager. This time, one who was being sat down by his parent. And in true adolescent fashion, he shrugged and looked down at his hands in his lap. But in all these years, Zack had proven he wasn't so easy to brush off. The larger man huffed out an irritated breath. "Look man, I've been with you for a long time. You think I don't notice when you're off your game. You tripped on stage last show and would have fallen right off if Dallon hadn't caught you." he said and frowned.  
  
Brendon stared up at him, brown eyes wide behind thick rimmed glasses. "Just...going through some stuff. You don't need to worry about it." he said, thinking this would put an end to the conversation. Of course it wasn't that easy. "It's my job to worry about you, Urie. And not only that, I thought we were friends. If something is going on..." he pressed. Feeling pressured, Brendon blurted out the first thing that popped into his mind. "I think I'm gay!" he said and stood up. He walked a small circle around the central room, not sure what he was thinking.  
  
What felt like several moments passed in silence before Zack cleared his throat. "When...uh when did you start to think that?" he asked. Brendon sighed and waved a hand through the air, like that would explain it all. "I don't know...I just...girls don't do it for me anymore. Like I can't get....anywhere with them, you know?" he replied, looking at the other man. Zack stared right back at him, not acting any different, which felt sort of relieving. Brendon wasn't sure why, but he felt like saying it to anyone would result in some kind of world meltdown. That was ridiculous, he knew that. But still, it crossed his mind.  
  
"And Dallon...on stage. That's not..." Zack started but Brendon quickly cut him off. "No! No that's all for the fans. Dallon's got Breezy and he's straight. I know he is." he said, his face flushing red. He wasn't sure about some things when it came to Dallon but he wasn't going to drag the man into this. Dallon was a married man and even so, Brendon didn't plan on exposing anyone else even if they were...dealing with this too. So he shook his head. "What happens on stage really is just on stage." he clarified, more calm than his first outburst. "And I haven't said anything to the guys. I feel like it would change things...mess up the dynamics of the band or something." he said. To this, Zack nodded.  
  
He stood up and placed a heavy hand on Brendon's shoulder. "There is nothing wrong with this, man. Okay? I want you to remember that first and foremost. But...maybe just keep it on the down low for now. I know the guys won’t care but with the band..." he said. Brendon understood what he meant. They were halfway through a worldwide tour. If he dropped this on them now, it might hurt things and that wasn't what he wanted. "Okay...I'm sorry Zack. It's just been hard figuring this out." he said. Pulling his hand away, Zack crossed his arms over his chest. "What about Sarah?" he asked. That one hit Brendon hard.  
  
Up until now, he'd never admitted to himself that he honestly might be gay. It lingered on the corners of his mind but now it felt real. What about Sarah? That was a question he suddenly wanted nothing to do with. Looking up, he took his glasses off and sighed. "I don't know...I guess I should tell her...at least break up with her until I know." he said with a sigh. It did hurt. Even if he wasn't into her sexually, he did love her. They'd been together for so long, and it wasn't just because of great sex. He was gone half the time. He loved that girl but now he was afraid he couldn't love her like she deserved. And Zack seemed to agree.  
  
"Maybe...tell her you need some space. Time to figure yourself out. Time on the road...it made you realize this might not be what you want or something." Zack said, trying to offer the singer aid. And he accepted it. "Yeah I'll tell her that. I'm sure she will understand..." As he finished the last of his words, the door opened and the sounds of his friends’ laughter filled the bus. He and Zack shared one last look of understanding before they returned to their routine behavior. That was the beginning of Brendon trying to embrace this 'phase' and slowly ease his friends into it.  
  


That night, the singer sat alone outside, his phone pressed to his ear. The conversation had started normal but it was so tense now, he was almost having trouble breathing through it. He'd told Sarah that he needed some time...and she's tried so hard to be good for it. Each word she spoke had shook and at one point, she even let out a sob. It broke his heart. "I'm so sorry, Sarah. This is...this is what's best right now..." he'd said, wanting her to understand that it hurt him too. But it just felt like no matter what he said, he was a villain, tearing her heart apart for the fun of it. Over and over, she said she understood and it was okay. But he knew it wasn't okay. It was far from okay.  
  
By the time he hung up, Brendon felt like he was the worst person alive. His stupid sexuality crisis was ruining everything good in his life. He wrapped his arms around his legs and hung his head, trying to will himself to be strong. But he just didn’t feel it. At some point, Zack came out and sat down next to him. He felt the arm wrap around his shoulders before he was pulled close to the man’s side. There was no resistance. Brendon curled up against his side and just let himself be sad. For once, he had no desire to joke or play it off. Life sucked.


End file.
